


Life’s alright in Devil Town

by gallifreytrash



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Hair, Idiots in Love, conversations between said idiots, kind of a mess of ideas I have
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 21:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreytrash/pseuds/gallifreytrash
Summary: a collection of little (sometimes long and sometimes short) ficlets of ideas that don’t make it into bigger fics.





	Life’s alright in Devil Town

“Do you remember when an angel was only worth his salt when his hair was long?”

“Well yes I do, never liked having long hair rather…”

“I did…” Crowley trailed off,

“They cut it, you know, after Golgotha.”

Aziraphale was puzzled by this. Despite the phrasing of the sentence, he could tell Crowley didn’t really want to elaborate. He pressed him anyway,

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after Golgotha, Hastur and Ligur dragged me down to Hell. To Beelzebub. Had a right yell, cut it all off, that was that.”

Crowley really didn’t want to elaborate. He was laying on the “I don’t care” tone thick

He was laying on the couch, his legs crossed over each other and resting on the armrest. The angel sat beside him. Crowley’s hands were fidgeting, picking at his nails. His jacket was off, it was quite a warm summer and far too hot to be wearing a jacket inside the shop, which was warm all year round anyway. His glasses were also missing, resting on the table across the room. That was really how Aziraphale knew how the demon was feeling.

His irises had expanded. The gold swallowing the whites of his eyes. Crowley lost control of his mortal form when he was worried, his eyes slipped back to being much more snake-like.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said in the softest voice he could muster, “Please spare me the flippancy, I’d hope that after 6,000 years I’d be able to tell when something is bothering you.”

“Okay then,” Crowley began guiltily, “well you know, I think Hell figured out we’d been spending time together by then. I thought we’d been clandestine, clearly not. I was already… upset, after, well, you know.”

“Yes, yes I believe I do.”

“Well I was on a bit of a bender I s’pose, yelling at God and drinking and such, and there was Hastur and Ligur. Dragged me right over to the nearest entrance to Hell and brought me to the Lord of the Flies themself. They were upset with me for ‘fraternising with the enemy’”

Aziraphale cringed at that, he wasn’t the biggest fan of that word these days.

“They also had a problem with my, and I quote, ‘foolishness’ for presenting myself as a woman. You’d have thought they’d be alright with that, I mean, we don’t really have genders, do we? Weak argument maybe, just felt angry…” Crowley trailed off, but started again, “Anyways, Hastur and Ligur both forced me to my knees and held me down. Beelzebub threatened me a lot, the usual ones: ‘You’re nothing’, ‘You belong to me’ et cetera.”

Aziraphale really was astounded by the ease with which Crowley told the tales of his own despair. Crowley still looked ridiculously calm despite the internal turmoil raging below the surface.

“They came forward with a knife, and held me up by my hair, so it’d hurt. They sliced, and it all came away, dropping me down to the floor. Then they kicked me in the stomach, dropped the hair in front of me and walked off. Hastur and Ligur just dragged me back up to Earth and left me there. I mean, s’not a big deal, don’t know why you wanted to know…” 

Aziraphale was almost offended now.

“Crowley, you must tell me these things. If I’d known you had been in trouble because of me I might’ve backed away for a bit.”

“Oh, no no, I didn’t want that. I was upset for a while though. My hair was the one thing I had left from before I Fell, and I believed them for a bit, that I’d been foolish. S’why I was a bit cold in Rome, sorry about that by the way. Figured it out eventually though didn’t I?”

“You could always grow it again, long like it used to be.” The angel suggested.

“I can’t. It doesn’t grow anymore, it gets to about shoulder length and stops. I don’t like it that length, it always feels like a failed attempt. Better to keep it short I think.”

Aziraphale leaned over, placing a kiss on the demons forehead, just below the hairline,

“I like it however you style it my dear.” 

Crowley angled his head back so he could look at Aziraphale. He sat up and leaned in to the angel’s shoulder,

“Like I said, s’not so bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> FIrstly I’d like to say thank you for reading this! Just a tiny lil idea I wanted to do something with. 
> 
> I also want to say that I know Crowley technically grows long hair a few times after Golgotha but I kind of just ignored that to make this work bc I liked the idea...


End file.
